


honours

by AtLoLevad



Series: the baratheon bunch [7]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Kids, dadvos, parenting, sheer fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 00:23:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19240084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLoLevad/pseuds/AtLoLevad
Summary: Arya and Gendry want to honour Davos





	honours

Arya sticks her head into Maester Jurne’s chambers and asks, “Have you seen Ser Davos, maester?”  
  
The old maester looks up and shakes his head. “No, my lady. I can’t say that I have. Perhaps he is with Lord Baratheon?”  
  
“No,” Arya exhales through her nose. “Gendry’s not expected back from the docks for another hour or so. Ser Davos didn’t go with him.” She frowns. “Oh well, I’ll find him.”  
  
“I wish you luck, my lady,” Maester Jurne gives her a small smile and Arya tips her head at him before heading off in search for the man that had become like a father to both her and Gendry.  
  
She searches the castle high and low before finally stumbling on Davos. He’s in the absolute last place she would’ve expected to find him - although, she really should’ve expected it.  
  
Nourah’s room is strewn with toys and discarded clothes - their eldest daughter is a hurricane of a child - and there, sitting in the middle of the mess, is Ser Davos Seaworth. Arya smothers a laugh at the sight. Nourah has Davos, the twins, and Rhae sitting around a tiny table Gendry had made for her. Rhae is propped against Davos’ side, chewing at her fingers and chattering incoherently. The twins are hitting each other with the metal cups Gendry made especially for Nourah’s tea parties and Davos is trying to interfere in the fighting.  
  
“Lads!” he admonishes, “is that any way for you to behave at your sister’s party?”  
  
Ed looks over at the man that’s, for all intents and purposes, their grandfather. “This is stupid! We wanna fight with swords!”  
  
Ric pipes up in agreement. “Tea’s for girls!”  
  
“Shut up, stupids!” Nourah growls. “I want to have a tea party and I only have you lot as guests!”  
  
A giggle escapes Arya’s lips - Nourah is very much a she-wolf, but her temper is all Baratheon fury. She and Gendry have both had to learn to control their own tempers around Nourah, so that they don’t make conflicts worse. Luckily, they have Davos. The former Master of Ships to King Bran is a saint of a man - his even temper and pragmatic nature make him a very welcome addition to Storm’s End.  
  
Now, he rests a hand on Ric’s shoulder and pins Ed with a look. “Now, lads,” he says quietly, but firmly, “tea’s not just for girls. Plentya men enjoy tea. Besides, Nourah is your sister and you’re to be polite when she invites you to be her guests.”  
  
“Yes, Da,” Ed replies, contrite.  
  
“Sorry, Da,” Ric echoes, hanging his head.  
  
It still stuns Arya, how quickly and easily her children listen to Davos, while they fight her and Gendry on everything. She’ll take it though, the less fighting they have to do with the children, the better.  
  
“Those are good lads,” Davos ruffles each of the boys’ hair in turn. “But, you owe apologies to your sister, as well.”  
  
To Arya’s further surprise, both Ric and Ed apologize to Nourah, sounding sincere about it even. Nourah accepts and returns to doling out tea and tiny cakes. The picture is so similar to Sansa’s own tea parties as a child that Arya has a visceral reaction of distaste. And then she catches herself and smiles at the display - all she’s ever wanted was a world where her children can do what they want, without fear of war, and that’s exactly what she’s got.  
  
Pleased with himself, Davos returns to the tea party, sipping what is sure to be cold tea at this point from the child-sized goblets Gendry made. Nourah serves him and Rhae tiny raspberry cakes. The two-year-old smashes the cake into her face and Arya laughs at the dismayed look on Nourah’s face. Their oldest daughter might’ve had a better time if she had excluded her siblings and invited Davos alone. Nourah heaves a long-suffering sigh - sounding very much like her father - and shoves a napkin at Davos. “Please wipe her, Da? I just don’t have the patience today,” she huffs and even Davos is biting his tongue to keep from laughing.  
  
“Of course, m’lady”, he smiles and wipes off Rhae’s face, much to the chagrin of the little girl. She swats his hands away, mumbling “No! Bad Da!” around the fabric.  
  
The twins devour the little cakes, immediately demanding more. Hot Pie’s employ at Storm’s End was both the best and worst thing to happen to the children - they ate amazing meals, but were constantly spoiled with desserts. Arya makes note of the fact that they’ve all been eating sweets and decides to tell Hot Pie that there shouldn’t be any additional desserts after dinner tonight. Davos handles another little spat between the twins, and Arya decides it’s finally time for her to step in.  
  
“No invitation for your mama?” she asks, teasing, stepping into the room.  
  
Davos and the children look up - the children screeching in excitement at the sight of their mother. As if she hadn’t seen them only a few hours ago at the midday meal. Arya grins and kneels down to catch the twins as they run into her arms. She kisses the tops of their heads, holding them just a little bit too tightly. She knows she and Gendry are about to turn their world over again, and she hopes they’re small enough that the change won’t be too great.  
  
“You hate having tea!” Nourah yelps, hopping from foot to foot before darting forward and hugging Arya around the middle.  
  
“Not if it’s with my children,” Arya winks. She ushers the children back to their seats. “Now, I must steal Da away from you lot.”  
  
The twins shout their disapproval, begging to let the older man stay. Davos gently ruffles their hair, “Come lads, your lady mother needs me. If it’s a quick task, I’ll be right back.”  
  
This seems to appease the twins and Arya rolls her eyes at the matching pouts on their faces. “I’ll remind you that Da does have duties that don’t include breaking up fights between you two bulls.”  
  
She winks at Davos then, because she knows that in his semi-retirement, breaking up fights between the children is his favorite job. He smiles back and sets Rhae on her tiny chair, planning on following Arya out of the room. The children wave goodbye, Ed and Ric still pouting.  
  
“That lot,” Davos shakes his head affectionately. Arya laughs when he can’t seem to find the words to finish his sentence.  
  
“Oh, I know,” she replies. Huffing a soft breath, she continues, “I have a sudden respect for my mother and father, knowing that I acted out at least half as much as the boys do.”  
  
“Don’t you worry, that husband of yours is just as much to blame,” Davos grins.  
  
“I don’t call him the Bull for nothing,” Arya laughs softly. “Stubborn as they come.”  
  
She pushes open the door to hers and Gendry’s study, pleased to see that Gendry is already there waiting. He gives them both a welcoming grin, getting up from his chair to press a quick kiss to Arya’s lips.  
  
Davos grumbles good-naturedly, “As if you two didn’t just see each other.”  
  
Gendry grins at the man who became like a father to him. “She’s the most beautiful woman in Westeros, Davos! What am I supposed to do?”  
  
Arya pinches his side, but there’s a pleased flush on her cheeks. Davos smiles to see it - he likes seeing them happy, it feels like seeing his own kids find love and peace. He’s always seen the physical resemblance the pair shares with Robert and Lyanna, but Davos has never felt they were the second coming of the tragic couple. Arya and Gendry’s bond goes far deeper than the superficial and their story, gods allow, was always going to end in happiness. He feels like a foolish old man for thinking it, but he wouldn’t want it any other way.  
  
“You could tell me what was so pressing I had to leave tea early,” Davos deadpans, a wry smirk forming under his beard.  
  
“Well,” Gendry says, running a hand over his beard and smiling broadly, “Arya’s with child again.”  
  
Davos, stunned, looks over at Arya. Her smile is smaller, but no less happy. A smile slowly spreads across Davos’s face, “Truly?”  
  
Arya nods, “Maester Jurne thinks the babe will be here in seven moons.”  
  
Davos reaches out to shake Gendry’s hand in congratulations, but Gendry pulls the older man into an excited hug. The two men clap each other’s backs and Arya laughs at them. Then they reach out together and pull her into the embrace, sending her further into fits of laughter and protest. She pushes away from the embrace, standing with her hands on her hips and surveying the pair.  
  
“We do have something else we’d like to...well, ask you, I suppose?” Arya looks at Gendry, as if asking that her phrasing was correct. He nods.  
  
“Ask me?” Davos looks confused, which Arya supposes is natural since they’re being fairly cryptic.  
  
Arya looks to Gendry again, nudging his side to spur him into speaking. He clears his throat and smiles softly. “You’ve been...invaluable to us, Davos,” he starts, laughing a little. “A bastard smith and not-a-lady Arya Stark, running Storm’s End? We would’ve been run out of the place before we even settled in, if it hadn’t been for you.”  
  
“I don’t think -“ Davos starts, but Arya cuts him off.  
  
“Please, we haven’t said how much we appreciate you enough,” she says quietly. “Let us.”  
  
“Oh, alright then,” Davos grumbles under his breath, a little embarrassed by their praise.  
  
“Thank you,” Gendry laughs. “Anyway, you’ve been like a father to me for decades and those hellions would be even worse if they didn’t have you as an influence.”  
  
Arya grins, “They do love their Da.”  
  
A soft smile crinkles the skin around Davos’s eyes. Durran had coined the name back when he was just a babe - unable to pronounce his real name, he’d started calling the older man “Da” and it had stuck. All the children called him that, in lieu of “grandfather” or something of the like. Arya and Gendry had both tried to get him to accept being called grandfather, since the children didn’t have any living grandfathers, but out of respect to Ned Stark, Davos had declined - being called “Da” was more than enough for him.  
  
“We wanted to ask you,” Gendry continues, “if you’d allow us to honour you by letting us name this babe,” his hand snakes around Arya’s side and his palm rests against her stomach, fingers splaying out protectively, “after you.”  
  
“Me?” Davos is taken aback, but there’s a spark of excitement in his eyes. “Lady Arya, Lord Gendry - “  
  
Arya nearly stomps her foot. “Oh come off it, Davos! None of that lord and lady business. You’re family and we won’t hear a word otherwise.”  
  
A snort of laughter escapes Gendry’s nose and he shrugs, “She’s right, you know. We’re not standing on formalities here.”  
  
“Alright then,” Davos sighs, every fiber of his being rebelling against the informality that they insist upon. “I’m honoured, truly, and touched, but burdening a babe with a terrible name like Davos isn’t something I’d wish on him.”  
  
He sees Gendry’s smile droop a bit and Arya’s face twist up - they were both clearly so happy and excited to pay tribute to him. A wave of guilt washes over him, but then an idea sparks in his head.  
  
“If I might suggest an alternative?” he says slowly and when they both nod, Davos continues. “It would .... if the babe’s a girl, it would warm my old heart to see another Shireen Baratheon grow at Storm’s End.”  
  
Tears gather in his eyes at the memory of the lovely young girl and his voice catches. Arya bites her lip and slips her hand into Gendry’s - he squeezes it reassuringly.   
  
“From the stories you’ve told about my cousin,” Gendry says quietly, “I think we would’ve gotten along.”  
  
“Aye,” Davos nods. “She was the sweetest girl you’d ever want to meet. But fierce as well.”  
  
Gendry looks down at Arya and smiles his stupid, soft smile that’s only for her. “Sounds like someone else we know,” he teases, laughing when she retorts, “stupid,” under her breath. Davos’s eyes crinkle at the display.  
  
“You’d‘ve liked her, Lady Arya,” Davos says, absolutely certain of the fact. Arya wrinkles her nose at the honorific she’s begged Davos to abandon, but only nods.  
  
“Then the babe shall be Shireen Baratheon, if it’s a girl,” Arya says decisively. Her eyes twinkle mischievously. “We’re still saddling him with Davos, if it’s a boy. We’re honouring you, whether you like it or not!”  
  


* * *

  
Arya gives birth just less than seven moons later and Davos is the third person to hold little Shireen Baratheon, after her parents.  
  
He’s not ashamed to admit that he cries a little when Gendry places the babe - all blue eyes and Tully red hair - in his arms, grinning.  
  
“Shireen,” Gendry says softly, “meet your Da.”  
  
“Hello, Shireen,” Davos murmurs, “we’re all very excited to meet you.”  
  
The hours-old babe yawns and waves a tiny fist in the air and Davos’s heart clenches with love for her and for Arya and Gendry and the older Baratheon children. He’s never imagined that he could be so lucky.

 

**Author's Note:**

> just in time for father's day, huh? this was fun to write mostly because i love some fluffy gendrya. based a little bit on a request from adversarya, who wanted to see grandpa!davos and arya and gendry naming a kids in honour of him. hopefully this lives up to the fluffy reputation i've built over here haha
> 
> going dark again to study, but please leave me some reviews and prompts that i can work on when i take little breaks!


End file.
